


You Can't Hide in a Broken Elevator

by DjDangerLove



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Booker is Trying, Brotp Booker & Joe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Immortal family, M/M, Misunderstandings, Slice of Life, Slightly Claustrophobic Joe, Team as Family, Trapped In Elevator, a tiny bit of angst, but sometimes they argue, pop tarts, they're a happy family because they deserve it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:36:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25811449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DjDangerLove/pseuds/DjDangerLove
Summary: Nile knows three things to be true:1. Copley should set them up with bigger safe houses.2. Booker should never be allowed to cook for them.3. There’s something wrong with Joe.When Booker and Joe get trapped in elevator together, she thinks that maybe the third one might get fixed. But maybe not.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache & Booker | Sebastien & Nile Freeman & Joe | Yusuf & Nicky | Nicolò, Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 23
Kudos: 497





	You Can't Hide in a Broken Elevator

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know. I wanted fluff and something soft with this found family. This is what happened.

There are three things Nile knows to be true this morning as she sits at the L-shaped bar that runs off the kitchen. The first is that Copley needs to set them up in a bigger house next time. Sharing a couch for movie night is one thing, not bad at all if she’s honest. For all the grumbling she does when Joe accidentally elbows her when he laughs at something on screen or when Booker reaches across Andy to steal her popcorn, the closeness of this family chases away the chill of grief for her previous one. 

But in the morning, when she’s still trying to get her eyes to focus, her mind to clear of dreams that haunt her, the last thing she wants is to be crammed shoulder to shoulder at the kitchen bar because there isn’t room for a regular table. 

But here she is.

Stuffed on a barstool between Andy and Nicky, the former consistently bumping her while drinking three cups of coffee in the span of time it takes every one else to drink one and Nicky’s bickering in Italian with Booker sitting across from them is louder than the coffee grinder that one has to angle just the right way while tapping it on the side just to get it running. 

Copley can do better. Much better.

There’s clear evidence of the second thing she knows to be true on the tip of her fork and it’s that Booker should never be allowed to cook for them. Ever. 

“I honestly don’t see what you guys are complaining about,” Booker grumbles sullenly in English, shoveling runny eggs in his mouth quicker than the rest of them. He raises an eyebrow at Nile when he feels her glare in his direction. “What?”

“Did you just get fed up with cooking in the middle of it or did you intentionally put uncooked eggs on my plate?”

“I believe I cooked them _Sunny Side Up_ as you Americans would say,” Booker counters over the horribly covered laughs in the room, purposefully letting yolk run off his fork in dramatic fashion. “You are supposed to dip your toast in it.”

“And ruin the only cooked thing on my plate? No thanks.”

Booker snorts at her disgust, takes one more bite of his _delicious_ breakfast and stands from the bar. He heads back to the stove, Nile’s plate in hand and ignore’s her , “I can do that, Book,” when he begins to scramble the yolk in a hot pan.

She doesn’t protest after he waves her off, knowing that ever since Booker was welcomed back to the team a little over a year ago he’s taken to cooking as a way to keep his hands busy when they shake for his long lost flask. He isn’t exactly sober, but his eyes are clear, posture steady, and he’s probably a better sou chef than Joe at this point. 

Smiling at Booker when he catches her staring, she turns to Nicky and questions the empty barstool at the end of the bar. “Where’s Joe?”

Nicky shakes his head as he wipes toast crumbs from the corner of his mouth and then leans back on his seat to angle his shout after the missing member of their family down the hall. 

Joe says something back in Arabic which Nicky interprets to Nile as, “He’s coming,” but she doesn’t miss the way he winces like maybe he had paraphrased for her benefit. She narrows her eyes at him to ask, but Booker returns with her eggs and slides her plate across the bar. 

“If you don’t like it, “ he says while plopping back down on his seat, “I think Joe might have some pop tarts left in the pantry.”

“No way!” 

“Si, my heart’s betrayal wounds me even to this day,” Nicky offers, hand splayed over his chest in a theatrical manner she’s not quite used to seeing from him, but the way both Andy and Booker laugh makes her think this isn’t the first time this has been done. “Why he consumes such garbage I will never understand.”

“It’s in the top five things they argue about most, “ Andy offers around a smile against the brim of her coffee mug. 

“Pop Tarts?”

“Do not let them corrupt your view of the delicacy that lies within mylar,” Joe says as he shuffles into the kitchen, curls on his head in disarray and bootlaces untied and tapping against the floor as he walks over to the pantry despite his own serving of Booker’s breakfast already sitting on a plate for him at his spot. 

Nile watches him across the kitchen, concern turning in her belly just a bit ( or maybe it’s Booker’s runny eggs) at the sight of him disheveled and without his usual exuberance. He doesn’t even rise to Nicky’s, “ Delicacy he says! But cannot pronounce half the ingredients on the packaging,” and completely ignores Booker’s offer to preheat the oven so he could warm it since Copley didn't get them a house with a toaster or microwave. 

Nile’s clearly not the only one to notice his odd behavior as they all stare at him as he sits down on the last stool and begins eating his revealed blueberry flavored Pop Tart cold. 

“You alright, Joe?” 

It’s Andy who asks first, but they all stare at him with the same question in mind. He looks to each of them, munching on his pop tart like it has personally offended him by not being heated or perhaps a different flavor. 

“Fine. Just tired.”

“Could you not sleep?” Nicky questions, his tone already apologetic if it were the case and hadn't noticed. 

“I slept, habibi,” Joe assures, his eyes going fond when he glances to Nicky for a brief moment. “The bed is not comfortable is all.”  
Nile knows that’s not true, if anything the beds are the only decent thing aside from the plushy couch in this entire house, but the way Joe keeps his head down while taking another bite of his pop tart tells her that he’s hoping they’ll all let it go. 

“Well, I for one love pop tarts. They are, in fact, a delicacy.”

Nicky gasps at her betrayal, but presses his shoulder into hers in silent gratitude for offering Joe an escape from further scrutiny as Booker pulls Joe’s untouched plate over for himself with a, “See if I ever cook for the two of you again.” 

Nile rises to the challenge with a, “ See if I ever make it possible for you to watch another match on tv again, old man,” but Joe once again ignores Booker entirely.

Instead, Joe takes the remainder of the pop tart he’s been eating out of the package and slides what's left over to Nile with a wink. She reaches for it only so she can slide it back, not wanting to take Joe’s clearly beloved pop tart from him, but he stands with the remainder of his hanging between his teeth before she can.

Andy sighs at the lot of them, downing the last bit of her third cup of coffee and shimming out of her seat. “Finish eating quickly. We gotta head out.”

She rounds the bar to stand in front of Joe, looks him over once and lays a hand on his shoulder. She asks him something in Arabic, sounds something like the phrase Nicky taught her to ask if something was okay, but Joe shakes his head. 

“You gotta have a clear head for this, Joe. The cut and dry ones are always the ones that get us.”

“I know, I know. I’m fine. We’re good, Boss.”

Andy seems to consider it for a moment, but then reaches up and ruffles his curls. “At least brush your hair.”

Joe does laugh at that, small and quiet, but smiling just the same. “Okay, but only because you asked nicely.”

Andy rolls her eyes and disappears down the hall taking Joe’s smile with it. Nicky does his best to bring it back, standing so that he can wrap his arms around Joe’s waist in a hug while watching him eat the last bit of his processed pastry. 

“I happen to like your bedhead,” Nicky teases.

Joe’s frown deepens, though playfully this time. “I was going for nicely tousled.”

“You missed the mark, habibi, but I’ll help you fix it,” Nicky offers, his voice too low to be mistaken for anything but the invitation that it is. Nile, along with Booker, paint their faces with playful disgust, a protest on each of their tongues, but Joe beats them to it.

“Perhaps later, my love. We’ll be late.”  
As Joe eases himself from Nicky’s hold so that he can disappear back down the hall, Nile finds the third thing she knows to be true. 

Something is wrong with Joe. 

———————

“Are you guys okay?”

Nicky looks up from where he’s setting up his scope for overhead surveillance across the street from the business Andy, Joe, and Booker are about to break into with a confused expression. 

She elaborates, “ You and Joe. This morning…it was weird.”

“Weird,” Nicky laughs, but it doesn’t come as easy as it usually does. “We’re okay. Joe is just in a mood.”

“A mood?”

Nicky nods, going back to his task at hand while explaining, “Si, for all his spewing of words about everything and anything, he doesn’t have many for when something is bothering him. It’s best to go about it like nothing is wrong. Eventually, he will come around.”

Nile feels annoyed for his sake, and for hers. “Doesn’t that bother you though? Knowing something’s wrong with him, but he won’t even tell you what it is?”

“It bothers you,” Nicky says. It isn't a question, and she can tell he’s amused at her, knows that while her and Nicky share a unique bond that makes Nile feel tethered to life and love and family, Nicky knows that Joe filled the empty spot her brother left in her heart. “He’s not keeping secrets, Nile. Sometimes he just takes a moment to think about whatever is bothering him.”

Nicky turns towards her once more, holding out a pair of headphones. “Rare, I know,” he tacks on with a laugh. “But it does happen from time to time.”

“I think the term your looking for is brooding, “ she counters while placing the headphones over her ears. 

_”Why are we talking about Booker?”_ Joe’s voice comes from the speakers. Booker’s voice follows through next from their comms. _“I think she’s talking about you.”_

 _“Regardless,”_ Andy cuts in, slightly exasperated not five minutes into the mission. _“We can talk about whoever is brooding later. Nicky, are we good to go?”_

“Yes, Boss.”

——————

When Andy had said back at breakfast that it was the cut and dry jobs that usually went to shit, she was right. It was just supposed to be a grab and go. A quick distraction from Andy, a little thievery from Booker and Joe to retrieve a journal that a CEO kept in a safe in his office containing the schedule and routes of his drug runners down in South America. 

Andy did the distraction. Booker and Joe grabbed the journal, but they’re currently stuck on the go part…quite literally. 

_“You’ve got to be kidding me,”_ Booker deadpans over the comms just after the sound of metal grating against metal screeches over the speakers causing Nicky, Nile, and Andy who had already made it back to them jerk at the painful sound. 

“What was that?” Andy asks, recovering before the other two. 

_“No. Oh no!”_ Joe says before breaking off into a string of distraught Arabic. 

“Joe?” Nicky questions, sitting up a bit straighter and making eye contact with Andy who asks, “Book? What’s happening?”

_“I think the better question would be what isn't happening.”_

“Not the time for riddles, old man. What’s going on?” Nile says, joining Andy and Nicky standing at the window uselessly trying to catch sight of the other two.

_“The elevator stopped.”_

“Stopped.” Andy says like she doesn’t quite know what to make of it. “As in someone’s on to you or the damn thing needs fixing?”

 _“Does it really matter?”_ Joe says this time, voice quick and urgent in a way it hasn’t been all morning. Nile thinks it sounds like he’s panicking but shakes her head of the thought because it seems too ridiculous to be true. 

“If you’re concerned about who gets it going first, then maybe,” she replies and then raises an eyebrow at the way both Nicky and Andy turn sharply to her. “What?”

_“I don't fucking care who gets it going as long as it does!”_

Nicky and Andy share a look. Nicky winces at Joe’s yelling then says without it going over the comms, “Joe isn’t one for small spaces.”

“You’re kidding!” 

_“Why the fuck would I joke about that?”_

Oops. She hadn’t meant to say that over the comms. “Sorry.”

 _“I don’t think they’re on to us,”_ Booker’s voice carries over. _“I think we would’ve had guns in our faces by now if that were the case, but when this things gets going again we’re gonna need a distraction so they don't question why we’re in the employee elevator without badges.”_

“Alright,” Nile says, taking off the headphones and passing them to Nicky. “I’ll go smooth things over and make sure somebody gets the elevator going quickly. The two of you can help Book keep Joe calm.”

———————

It’s been a little over a year since Booker had found himself back with his family. His hundred year exile cut short by forgiveness and a love he took for granted and maybe never really understood. It hadn’t been easy coming back into the mix. Andy showed him a tougher love than she ever did before, where Nile accepted him for everything that he was to the point where _he_ even ended up telling her that she shouldn’t give her trust and love so easily.  
She ended up hugging him and saying, “Don’t tell me what to do, old man. You haven’t earned the right.”

Nicky had been somewhere in the middle with his forgiveness. Gentle to a fault, offering Booker no hostility but keeping him at arm’s length and at least a dozen more from Joe. Joe had been the worst out of all of them, not that it surprised Booker the slightest. Yusuf had always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve until it became too heavy with something even he couldn’t articulate with words. 

Upon his return, Joe had cursed at him in three different languages at the same time, the words tumbling over themselves as if they couldn’t wait a moment longer to escape the firestorm inside Joe’s mind. Booker had done his best to keep up, pick out the important parts that he could try to mend on down the road, and let Joe’s fist connect with his face as many times as it could before Nicky and Andy pulled him away. 

It took months for Joe to openly have a conversation with him, a few more for them to settle into something close to friendship. It was within those few months that Booker had given up drinking. Well, almost. He still has a sip every now and then, mostly after missions or a glass of expertly paired wine with dinner with the team, but that’s it. He doesn’t stock their safe houses with it and he hasn't carried a flask with him in almost a year. 

Joe had been the one to help him, had been the one to bring it up at all with a , “There are better ways to cope, Booker. I want to help you if you’ll let me.”

So Joe started teaching Booker how to draw simple doodles in a journal when his hands wanted to shake with withdrawal, challenging him to matches of football in the backyard of whatever safe house had them when Book’s mind waged it’s own war for a bottle of anything with alcohol, and taught him to sou chef to Nicky when his stomach churned at the thought of consuming anything other than liquor. The last one was Booker’s personal favorite if only for the amusement he got from Nicky going behind Yusuf and assuring Booker there are safer ways to chop vegetables and that no dish needs as much as garlic as Joe prefers. 

A little over a year and Booker believes the two of them can become brothers again, thinks they already are but he’s too afraid he’ll mess it up to make it clear to Joe how grateful he is. 

It’s a fear that has reared its ugly head all day, because Joe seems to want to have nothing to do with him today. From ignoring the breakfast that Booker made this morning, to not responding to his joke about Andy’s driving on the way over, to only conversing with him about the details of the job as he and Joe set out to steal the journal, Joe seems one thousand percent done with Booker today and Booker has no idea why. 

Immortality or not, Booker knows the world has a sick sense of humor so when the elevator suddenly shudders to a stop on the way down, it pisses him off. 

That is, until he’s reminded of Joe’s distaste for being trapped in small spaces by the man’s slightly panicked bickering with Nile over the comms and well, this cut and dry job has went to shit. 

Booker slides down the elevator wall, knees bent to bare the brunt of his elbows being propped on them as he slides his fingers through his hair. He tries to relax under Nicky’s attempt at soothing Italian coming over the comms for Joe’s benefit, explaining that Nile is on the way to speed up the elevator repair and to divert any unwanted attention from them once its back to operating. 

However, Joe keeps pacing the three strides back and forth between the elevator panels, suspiciously coming close to stepping on his toes when he gets to the side Booker is sitting down at, and it’s driving him nuts. “There isn't enough room in here for you to be doing that.”

“There isn't enough room in here for anything!” Joe counters in a blend of English and Arabic that causes Booker’s annoyance to dwindle. 

“Hey.” It stops Joe on his turnabout at the opposite wall. “We’re going to get out of here. Temporary set back is all. Nile will speed it up. Over before you know it.”

Joe slumps against the wall but stays standing, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, sure.”

 _”Hey!_ Nile sounds offended over the comms and out of breath. Booker is thankful she isn’t taking her time getting to them. _“I thought we had something special this morning, Joe. You share the best breakfast pastry ever made with me…I get you out of a broke elevator. That’s how it’s supposed to work.”_

Booker’s mouth turns up at the corner at the sight of Joe’s doing the same. 

_“Why the two of you feel the need to torture me with this is unfathomable,”_ Nicky cuts in across the comms, which makes Joe outright laugh and fall into a mirror of Booker’s position. 

“Do not be so dramatic, Nicky,” Joe says, wiping sweat from his forehead into his curls and making them flat for all of a few seconds. 

Booker snorts, momentarily forgetting Joe’s earlier propensity of ignoring him. “Says the one panicking in an elevator.”

Joe kicks him in the shin and curses him in his mother tongue, glaring at him when Andy admonishes them with, _“Boys, play nice.”_

Silence settles in the elevator and over the comms. It lasts all of ten seconds before Joe mutters a defensive, “To be fair, it’s a broken elevator.”

Booker rolls his eyes. “Nile, got an update yet?”

 _”Umm,”_ she starts and realizes her mistakes even without being about to see Joe tense. _“It’s definitely broken and there’s nobody walking around like they’re about to kill anyone so I don’t think anyone is on to us. Good news.”_

“What’s the bad news?” Joe asks before Booker can respond. 

_“Well, it’s going to take them a bit to get to you. The elevator is stuck between two floors and the fire department is a few miles out yet.”_

Joe lets a curse fly in English and drops his head back against the elevator with dull thump. Booker feels the slightest tinge of regret at mocking the man now trying to breathe as slowly as possible even though his heart is probably hammering against his ribcage. 

Booker doesn’t know the exact reason Joe is a bit claustrophobic, but has been around long enough to realize it’s why Nicky is the little spoon most nights as Joe can’t sleep if it feels like he’s being held down. 

Booker feels a pang of guilt bobble heavy in his throat at teasing the man. He works his mouth silently around words that won't come, afraid that they’ll settle heavy and suffocate them in such a tight space. Eventually though, he finds something to say that could be taken in two directions. 

“I shouldn’t have ate your pop tart back in ‘92. Berlin was it?”

“Ireland. ’91,” Joe corrects. “To be fair, I was the one that fell four stories to my death on that job. It was rude to take the last one.” 

_“He’s got a point, Book.”_ Andy always there to dig his hole a bit deeper for the fun of it. 

Booker laughs, but says, “ Yeah, sorry,” and hopes that Joe picks up on the fact that he means for more than just the stolen pop tart of 1991, the betrayal from a couple of years ago, and whatever the hell he’s done now. 

Joe sighs, running his hand over his head and jumping when something clangs up above them.  
_“Fire department’s here.”_ Nile explains, and Joe blows out a long breath. 

_“Won’t be long now, habibi.”_ Nicky comforts from afar. 

The sounds of the fire crew echo around them and it seems to make Joe even more nervous than before even though it’s getting him closer to being set free. Booker is about to think of something else to say in order to distract him but Joe suddenly continues their previous conversation. 

“I’m sorry, too.” 

Booker shakes his head, does his best not grab on to the hand railing above his head when something hits the top of the elevator cart. “For what?” 

Joe waits to see if anything more comes from the way the cart was jostled but then looks to Booker when nothing does. “I shouldn't have stabbed you with a spork.” 

_“You’ve stabbed him at least six times since. Two of which happened at the same Taco Bell.”_ Andy again. She digs the holes for everyone. 

_“Are you all serious right now? This is who I’m stuck with for eternity?”_ Nile groans, but her amusement is clear through the static. 

“Okay, I should share my pop tarts with you,” Joe rectifies, then in the silence that follows he murmurs, “I shouldn’t have ignored you this morning either. 

“Did you?” Booker offers, because their comms are on and if they’re about to have a heart to heart well… Book would rather just toast each other at dinner and give a head nod to each other that everything is okay. 

Joe seems unconcerned though and shakes his head with a chuckle, aware of Booker’s discomfort. “I thought you stopped hiding liquor.”

Whatever he expected Joe to say, it wasn't that. The cart gives another jostle and a loud pop as the doors separate by a mere two inches. A man's voice calls down from above them, a fireman yelling through the crack.

“Everyone okay in there?”

Booker looks to Joe and shouts an affirmative. “The quicker you get us out the better though. My friend isn't a fan of small spaces. It’s only the two of us. We’re okay otherwise.”

“Okay, we’ll get you out as soon as possible. Hang tight.”

That seems to be all the man wants to know as the clanging picks back up again. Booker finds Joe still staring at him and he huffs. 

“What are you talking about? I’m not hiding anything.”

“The bottle of scotch in your go bag seems to suggest differently.”  
“My..” Booker grunts, annoyed at being spied on. “Are you going through my stuff now? Really?”

“No.”

“The fact that you know what’s in my go bag seems to suggest otherwise.”

_“Boys.”_

Joe shifts his posture, sitting up a bit straighter, eyes alight with a kind of hurt Booker seems only capable of producing. “I wasn't snooping. I bought you another journal at the market. I was only putting it in your bag because you were already asleep when I got back.”

Some of the fire dwindles at the pit of Booker’s belly, the fight deflating from his shoulders as he sinks back against the wall not realizing he’d leaned forward to begin with. “You never thought to ask me what it was for?”

Joe laughs, though it carries little humor. “Only so many things you can do, Book.”

“Gifting it is one. Ever consider that?”

Joe’s eyes narrow, he doesn't even flinch when the cart shakes at a particularly loud clang. “To who?”

“Andy. Or did you forget?”

He watches as Joe tries to wrack his brain for the answer as both Andy and Nicky snicker over the comms. The cart shakes again this time giving a jolt but otherwise remaining stuck and Joe wraps his hand around the handle bar at his head, murmuring something in Arabic Booker can't hear. 

Nicky offers something soft in return then, _”New York. Today’s date in 1987.”_

Joe opens his eyes where they had been squeezed shut and looks to Booker. “Ah! Andy’s first use of a computer.”

_“Why will none of you let this go?”_

_”Oh, this I gotta hear.”_

_“Anyone who tells her will have hell to pay.”_

The three of them simultaneously apologize to Nile for having to keep quiet on the matter.

The comms go quiet again, the elevator repair is a symphony of loud clangs and pops, and Joe tries to breathe through his nose and out through his mouth through all of it. 

“I figured we could all have a shot in honor of that computer’s untimely death as we always do. I wasn't trying to hide it.”

Joe nods his head even though he watches the doors slide open an inch or two further. “I know. I’m sorry, I just…” He trails off but looks to Booker with eyes tinged with sadness. “I don’t want to mess up again.”

Booker is startled, not by the cart shaking, but by Joe’s words. “What are you talking about?”

“We weren’t there for you enough before. I wasn’t. But I’m trying to do better. I just…when I saw the bottle in your bag I thought maybe it was happening again. Maybe I was being blind to something going on or you still didn’t trust me enough to talk to me about it.”

“Joe-“

The elevator bobbles, up and down like a weird kiddie ride at a carnival and then rolls up to the floor where the fireman had shouted from. Suddenly remembering why they’d been in the elevator at all, Booker stands quickly pulling Joe who has the journal in the inside pocket of his jacket behind him. The doors slide open with an ease they’ve lacked for the past thirty minutes and three men in fire suits, two paramedics, the lady from the front desk lobby, and the security guard all stand there blinking at them. 

The paramedic moves forward first but Booker tugs Joe by the arm while waving them off. “We’re fine. My friend does need some fresh air though,” Booker assures while talking over the firemen who continue to inspect the now open elevator. The paramedics hang back, but the lady from the lobby and the security guard trail them.

“Excuse me? May I see some identification. That was the employee elevator, but I don’t-“

“Ma’am! The elevator is broken!” Nile shouts as she rounds the corner, purposefully keeping her eye diverted from Booker and Joe.

“No. It was just fixed,” the woman says, still following behind them as Booker continues to drag Joe to the door. 

“No, no. The other one. The one by the bathrooms.” 

Booker makes it to the glass doors leading out, hears the lady grumble, “Oh heavens!” and sees her turn around in the reflection of the door as Nile scampers to catch up with them. 

“Is it really broken?” Booker asks Nile, still ushering Joe along even though the man bends at the waist with relief at being out in open air. 

“Are you really sorry you stole Joe’s pop tart in 1991?”

“No. I was hungry.”

“Then we better hurry before they catch on to us.”

———————

That night as they all cram around the L-shaped bar in the kitchen of their safe house for their last night there having handed over the journal to Copley, sipping on the scotch from Booker’s go bag, she begs them to tell her the story behind it but none of them cave. 

Joe comes close, but Nicky puts a hand over his mouth to stop him, murmuring something in Italian that makes Joe cave on the spot with an apology to Nile. She switches topics then, figuring if she can’t hear that story then maybe they’ll tell her another one.

“Will you tell me about the double spork incident at Taco Bell, then?”

Laughter erupts around the table as both Booker and Joe begin spinning the tale, adding tidbits that the other disputes happening at all. Thankfully Nicky and Andy keep their dramatics accurate, cutting in every once in a while to make sure the story stays truthful. 

When Booker and Joe finally finish telling the story, she notices the two of them share silent head nod that must mean something more as they clink there glasses together before taking a drink. Nicky seems pleased, and hugs Joe around the waist as Andy winks at Booker. 

This time Nile doesn’t ask, content to be grateful that they all seem to be on good terms. She does ask about the other spork incidences though and that sets them all off, talking all over each other in three different languages. 

As it all washes over her, their voices too loud in the crammed kitchen and Andy bumping into her when she swats playfully at Joe, the way that Booker’s pasta is still a bit too hard despite Nicky’s help, and Joe having a propensity to stab Booker with sporks, Nile thinks back to that morning when she knew three things to be certain. 

1\. Copley should set them up with bigger safe houses.  
2\. Booker should never be allowed to cook for them.  
3\. There’s something wrong with Joe.

While all three remain true, Nile knows that if none of it ever changes she won't mind at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think then come yell at me on Tumblr @ DjDangerLove about these immortal idiots we all love.


End file.
